


Dorato (Golden)

by queenauditore



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: 1511 circa, Leonardo POV, M/M, Revelations era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenauditore/pseuds/queenauditore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate wanted Ezio and Leonardo's roads to divide after Rome: the Assassin in Constantinople, the artist in Milan.<br/>But their hearts aren't that far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dorato (Golden)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been inspired by a track from the AC Revelations soundtrack: listening to it while reading would be the best thing!  
> Here: https://youtu.be/d7is3sj05mE
> 
> English isn't my native language so any sort of comment is appreciated. (:

The warmest colours were sweetly mixing together in the sky: a perfect shade of yellow, orange and red.

Leonardo, leaning on a windowsill, was staring at the stars that were slowly starting to show themselves.

He had a thousand works to conclude that were waiting for him on the table of that little house the _Milanesi_ gave him, since he was working for them now.

He didn't have any other choice but to accept the King of France's offers - not that he wasn't happy of housing in Milan: there was nothing better for an artist than traveling through wonderful cities, right?  
It wasn't as if he could follow a certain boy, no longer a boy now, to Constantinople.  
He didn't have any excuses to see his face anymore, neither Fate could act to make them meet again somehow, just like it already happened in Rome a decade ago.

The sky as the twilight was ending: this was the only thing that really made him feel close to Ezio.  
Leonardo's clear eyes calmly and carefully observed the daily phenomenom: the orange shade was meeting a light azure, almost purple, that was preparing itself to become a blue so dark that no one could've seen through it.  
  
Ezio's life was just like that.  
Leonardo had met him for the first time when he could see only that golden orange in his eyes: the vitality in his movements and expressions was unique and it represented a young man ready to show himself to the world to receive affection in the form of attention.  
The death of his dear ones was the first hint of purple in the sky of his existence. Since then, showing himself to the world was the last thing Ezio had to or wanted to do, and darkness had become a useful weapon for him.

Leonardo lowered his eyes on the notebook in his hands and observed closely his own sketchy drawing.  
_Ezio's eyes._  
They never changed their colour: the sunset's gold had remained trapped in there, along with vivacity and passion. Leonardo as well, sometimes, felt like he was still imprisoned inside those eyes.  
  
A smile made his way on the artist's face, aware that the golden of those eyes would never change. Neither pain nor age could fade such a beauty.  
Ezio's soul could've even become a dark blue, but his eyes would always remain the moon of that night. 

Raising his eyes, he noticed with pleasure that many more stars were now in his company.  
That brief and nostalgic moment of the day was vanishing once more, and Leonardo wondered when would he have the time to observe again what surrounded him, in memory of that one person his heart couldn't let go.

Leonardo wasn't a poet, but he appreciated writing. Still, he felt almost jealous of his own thoughts towards the Assassin - having never talked about his feelings must have influenced him, since between them he had always felt an atmosphere of mystery, of unsaid things. And they should never be told, because a look or a touch - with Ezio - held much more than any man could've been able to explain.

Leonardo couldn't look away from the night sky for a long time, but the feeling of not being alone in that room - of being watched - won, at last.

Turning his face, a long silence filled the air, followed then by the noise Leonardo's notebook made as it was being closed.  
He didn't need it open now, because originals could never compare to his drawings.


End file.
